


Connected

by ThirteenRedVampireBites



Series: EAD'21 [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Lucifer's Cage (Supernatural), M/M, Protectiveness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:07:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29475222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThirteenRedVampireBites/pseuds/ThirteenRedVampireBites
Summary: 120 years. Sam spent 120 years in the Cage with Michael, Lucifer, and Adam until Death dragged his Soul out. This leaves a deeper connection than expected.Posted for EAD'21WARNING MAY NEVER BE FINISHED OR WILL BE REWRITTEN
Relationships: Adam Milligan & Sam Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Gabriel/Lucifer/Sam Winchester, Michael/Adam Milligan
Series: EAD'21 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2164968
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	Connected

**Author's Note:**

> Round 3 of EAD fics~

**Then~**

“ _The sun has gone from the shining skies,_

_The dandelions have closed their eyes,_

_The stars are lighting their lamps to see,_

_If babes and squirrels and birds and bees_

_Are sound asleep as they should be._ ”

Being held within Lucifer’s Grace meant that Sam could hear the soft singing the Archangel was doing. He knew that it was the Archangel’s attempt to keep them both calm as well as block out the pain to his wings which were wrapped around them both and taking the brunt of the harm that the Cage’s magic was doing.

Distantly he could see Adam and Michael on the other side of the Cage though that was only due to the fact that the Cage was built to hold _one_ Archangel not two, meaning that the Cage which would normally be several thousand kilometers wide seemed as if it was only several hundred. He knew that the other two could hear Lucifer singing as well.

Adam’s body hung within Michael’s Grace while Sam’s own body had disappeared some time ago. Not that it bothered Sam; that body was just a hindrance to him being more connected to Lucifer, so he was partially happy to see it gone. The other part of him worried, because where had it gone? And what was it doing without him.

“ _Hey Jude, don’t make it bad,_

_Take a sad song and make it better,_

_Remember to let her into your heart,_

_Then you can start to make it better._ ”

Sam took up singing where Lucifer had stopped, his own voice much deeper than the Archangel’s. He’d heard the song a million times and it felt as if he’d sung it a million times more but he couldn’t be sure because of how time passed down here.

Lucifer’s Grace brightened and a small tendril touched down against his soul, petting over it lightly. Sam reached out ghostly blue fingers to touch the tendril, stroking along the attachment. A swirl of gold came from his center to brush against the ice blue of Lucifer’s Grace before it retreated again. He wasn’t sure where the gold had come from but he enjoyed its warmth when it showed up.

The Cage fell quiet, Adam’s breathing and the sound of clashing metals from the Cage’s magic crashing against the Archangels’ wings the only sounds. The temperature spiked for a moment, heating up the usually cold space for only a short time before the temperature returned to the normal frostiness which slowly depleted the Archangels’ Graces.

Suddenly, a figure appeared. A man, pale and dressed in a cleanly pressed black three-piece suit stood in front of Sam and Lucifer, staring at them for a moment before he spoke, “Samuel Winchester. It’s time for you to return Topside.”

Sam trilled, his soul shaking within Lucifer’s Grace. He didn’t want to go back. He wanted to stay with Lucifer and Adam and Michael, he didn’t care that the Cage was basically the worst kind of prison. He just wanted to stay with his family.

The disapproving look the man gave made Sam shrink back slightly in shame. “Your brother is waiting Samuel.” He remarked, watching the soul for a moment.

Sam brushed against Lucifer’s Grace to get the Archangel’s attention. When the Archangel looked at him, he motioned to the man in front of him.

“ _Death_.” Lucifer greeted, his Grace tightening around Sam.

“Lucifer. Samuel Winchester is to return Topside.” Death told him, smoothing down his jacket carefully.

Lucifer turned back to Sam, wrapping tendrils of his Grace tight around Sam’s soul. “ _I know you don’t want to return Sam but your brother needs you. The Mortals need you._ ” He spoke quietly, making sure that only Sam could hear. “ _I will always be with you. I’ll leave a part of me with you, so you will always carry me with you._ ”

Sam sighed quietly, assenting to be returned Topside. He gasped quietly as Lucifer’s Grace curled around a single section of his soul, the ice blue melting and melding into the navy blue of Sam’s soul. Sam turned his eyes to Lucifer, keeping his eyes on the Archangel, even as he faded from the Cage at Death’s touch.

With a gasp, Sam opened his eyes and sat up, nearly smacking Dean in the face with his forehead. He gave his older brother a weak smile as he laid back down, body suddenly very sore. He studied the room for a moment, green eyes taking in all the details. He was back on the couch at Bobby’s surrounded by his brother, Bobby, and their resident angel.

“Welcome back,” Castiel murmured, patting Sam’s shoulder lightly.

“Thanks, Cas,” Sam croaked, giving him a weak grin as he settled more comfortably on the couch.

“Sleep, Sammy.” Dean patted his head before ushering the others out of the room. 

**Now~**

He lightly presses his wings around his older brother, crossing his already destroyed wings over Michael’s scorched gold-tipped white feathers. He can’t stand the thought of those beautiful wings ending up like his own destroyed white and black feathers.

Michael’s Grace reaches out to him, pumping energy into his being as he fights to protect him. Lucifer can only make a soft noise before looking to Adam’s floating form within Michael’s being.

“ _Stop looking at me like that._ ” Adam remarks, blue eyes half-open as he rests. “ _You’re doing the best you can._ ”

“ _I am._ ” Lucifer can only agree as he turns his attention outwards towards the edges of the Cage. He studies for cracks and sighs quietly when he doesn’t find anything. “ _I can only hope for an exit… We need to get out of here._ ” He turns his attention back to Michael for a moment, pressing his cheek against his brother’s.

“ _You are doing your best, brother,_ ” Michael murmurs, pressing back.

Lucifer sighs again before absently casting out his Grace again to search for some opening. When the spike escapes, he thrums, turning to face where it had disappeared out. Remaining close to Michael, he moves to the wall, looking at the hole.

“ _Can you get out of here through there?_ ” Adam asks.

“ _I need to widen it a bit, but I should be able to._ ”

“ _Widen it? Shall we brother?_ ” Michael asks, clutching Adam closer to him.

Lucifer turns to study the golden form of his brother for a moment before with a decisive nod, he clasps ghostly hands with Michael’s free ones.

“ _On my count?_ ” Adam asks. This will be the turning point. Either they get the hole widened or they don’t, and they’re stuck here forever.

“ _Of course,_ ” Michael replies.

“ _Ready?_ ” When the two Archangels give an affirmative nod, he begins his countdown. “ _Three… Two… One… NOW!_ ”

An explosion of light, and the cage goes dark.

**Now~ Elsewhere**

A small figure stands on the edge of the abyss and stares out unseeing.

“ _Kalmiya?_ ” A rumbling voice calls, drawing her attention – just barely but still drawing it some – from the darkness in front of her. “ _What do you see?_ ”

“ _The Morningstar comes. He comes with great speed._ ” She whispers, tiny fingers and wings reaching out to the blackness.

**Now~ Elsewhere, Elsewhere**

The keys in his hand rattle as he exhaustedly tries to open the door to his motel room. It’s been an exhausting few days, and he’s just ready to lay down and go to sleep, but he knows that if he doesn’t get the blood off, he’ll hate himself in the morning.

“Fuck I hate vampires,” He groans, finally getting the door open. He pulls the keys from the lock and enters, shutting the door and locking it once he’s inside the room. He’s thankful that he remembered to wear dark colors before taking care of that nest, and that it’s three in the morning, so that no one calls the cops on him for looking like an axe-murderer (fitting considering).

He tosses his keys down on the table next to his laptop before crossing the room to the bathroom, not bothering with getting clothes when he’s still covered in blood. He winces at the brightness of the florescent lights when he flicks the switch and at the sight he gets when he takes a glance into the mirror of the medicine cabinet over the skin.

He is entirely caked in blood of varying states of dryness, some flaking off even as he stands there. His long brown hair is practically black. The only color other than red drying to rust or black being his hazel eyes as they stare at his reflection in the glass.

“Fuck,” Sam mutters, closing the bathroom door behind him. “Gods these things get messy when I’m on my own…”

He systematically begins to remove his clothes, tossing them into the sink with a grossly wet splat. Even with his clothes removed he’s not much better, the blood having seeped through or simply gotten under the hems to leave rivulets down the entirety of his body.

He sighs quietly, bending over the sink and turning the cold water onto high. He should have just left the damn things on and taken a cold shower, but he aches all over…

As he straightens up, hazel eyes catch on the sprawl of ink down his back, a small smile crossing his face at the sight.

He can remember the first time he’d seen the intricate wings seemingly tattooed down his back. He’d nearly jumped out of his skin in surprise when he’d caught a tiny glimpse of them in the mirror during his first shower as himself after waking up on the couch at Bobby’s. Then he’d screamed for Dean, wanting to get a full picture of the ink down his back.

Dean had come into the room and immediately began cursing a blue streak. “Where the hell did those come from?” had been Dean’s question as he fished his cellphone out of his pocket to take a picture.

Sam had had no idea. At least, not until he’d noticed the colored feathers that were interspersed in the black and white. A few dozen were colored in an icy blue or a burgundy tipped gold, and that was all he’d needed to see to know.

Castiel had confirmed his assumptions when he’d asked – though he left the coloring out when informing him. “The markings are from close contact between Sam’s soul and Lucifer’s Grace,” the Seraph told them. “Soulless Sam may have had them as well, but there was never really a moment to find out. With the reintroduction of Sam’s soul, they were most definitely transferred over when the connection was reformed.”

Dean had had questions about why he hadn’t gotten the same marks from Cas, and oddly, the Seraph had flushed red before his gaze dropped to where the handprint had once been. Dean had flushed at the reminder and that had been the end of that conversation.

Sam groans quietly as he turns the shower on, his muscles already beginning to ache. He watches as the water comes on, pouring out into the tub. As it begins to warm up, he strips the remaining things from his body. He carefully sets the leather bracelets and few pieces of jewelry he wears on top of the toilet basin. With the water now hot enough, he steps into the shower, pulling the curtain closed after him.

He wrinkles his nose at the rivulets of rust colored water that spirals down the drain as the dark vampire blood washes out of his hair and off his body. Another minute of just letting the water wash over him before he grabs the bottle of body wash off the wall shelf and the loofa from the hook and begins to wash off the crusted-on blood.

Fifteen minutes later and satisfied that he’s got it all off, Sam gets out of the shower. He grabs the towel off the rack and wraps it around his waist before moving to deal with his clothes. Turning the cold water on, he starts by simply running them under water until the water in the basin is clear instead of colored. He plugs the tub afterwards, filling it with cold water to let his clothes sit for the night before he washes them out in the morning.

With that all finished, Sam exits the bathroom and goes into the rest of the room. He dries off the parts of his body that remain wet before pulling on a pair of boxers. After tossing the wet towel over a chair, he throws himself out on the bed, tucking himself under the blankets. Comfortable in a big enough bed, he almost immediately drops into sleep.


End file.
